Cold
by magicmumu
Summary: This story is about solving a 17 year old murder with the help of the spirit of the victim and the one who can see her. Cold Case/Ghost Whiperer/Gothika movie crossover. Gore, ghosts and femslash! Please read disclaimer in the heading. UPDATE: 7/22
1. Prologue

Cold

by Erin Griffin

Fandom: Cold Case/Ghost Whisperer/Gothika

Pairing: Chloe Sava/Miranda Grey and Melinda Gordon/Lilly Rush eventually.

Rating: R for language, violence, murder, some scariness

Summary: Lilly Rush is given a case of a fifteen year old murder. The victim, Leslie Woods, doesn't want her murder solved, in fact, she wants Lilly stopped. In an urgent search for someone who could see her, she finds both Miranda Grey, still new to her gifts as a medium, and Melinda Gordon from her hometown in Grandview. Both mediums are determined to figure out what Leslie wants, and what exactly happened the night she died.

Disclaimer: I do not own Cold Case, Gothika, Ghost Whisperer and Allison Dubios, who is mentioned once or twice in this story.

Spoilers: I know that a lot of things will be different for the story. It doesn't follow Cold Case or Ghost Whisperer's formula to the exact, nor does everything that has happened to the characters get mentioned. This takes place after Jim Clancy has crossed over, after the movie of Gothika, and I would say after Lilly was shot. Delia's husband never came back.

Author's Note: The basic of the story came about from a Ghost Whisperer conversation I had with Alkimon, and he also asked the one question that had me think about this crossover.

Prologue: October 1992

By the glow of a single flickering candle, Leslie Woods bent over a small, light blue diary. She scribbled what she could in a short amount of time, trying her best to get everything she could out on paper in case she survived. In case she didn't. The more fear she felt, the faster her hand moved over the paper. There was very little concern for her hand writing, as she felt that he was near. As long as she got everything written down, she didn't care. If she survived, she'd know what she had written. If she didn't... No one will, and the secret will be gone- safe perhaps- for good....

There was a shout and a bang. Leslie gasped, then shook in her spot. She looked up for a second for the sounds again, but it had been quiet. She looked out the window and saw a new car in her driveway. She wrote faster now, finishing her thought. Her spine became cold as she heard the door to her home opening below. She prayed that it wasn't her daughter coming home. She felt bad that she hadn't come to get her, but Cassie was safer where she was. She hastily stuck a small shiny peice of metal inside the diary after putting in the last sentence, and then she hid the diary behind a trunk of her grandparents' clothing, between it and the wall. Leslie forced herself to slow her breathing in order to quiet herself. Though she had just run over two miles from her abandoned car to her home and away from the one persuing her, she knew it was her only chance for survival if he didn't think to look for her up here. She blew out the candle, but she knew that it was probably too late. There was a window there, and he would have seen the glow from it. Though she often thought otherwise, he wasn't stupid.

Leslie could hear the thuds around her house as he searched for her. Slowly they seemed to get louder as he walked from the first floor to the second, searching the rooms and closets. It wouldn't be long before he saw the square cut out of the ceiling in the upper foyer, which lead to the attic where she hid. From here she had nowhere to run. She prayed that he would only stick his head in and take a quick sweep, but she knew that he was more thourough than that. He would come fully in, and she knew that she wouldn't survive. As the flap opened, she let a tear fall, knowing that she wouldn't see her daughter or her mother again. She regretted everything that brought her to this point in time, wishing she had left everything alone. She didn't want the blood from their deeds to get on her hands as well, and she knew that she couldn't just sit down and do nothing. But she wished she had. She wanted to be selfish and wish she never tried to make things right, just so that she could take Cassie to the zoo that weekend like she had promised.

"I know you're in here, you little bitch," he said. He was out of breath, but he seemed to find the joy in hunting her like deer. He banged on the wall loudly. He was closer to Leslie than she thought. Man, he moved quickly. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle any gasp she would make. Leslie looked across the room and saw the opened window, and she stared out at the sliver of moon that was slightly hidden by a tree. She felt something against her head, and she froze. "Tag, you're it," he said. "Stand up!" Leslie did as told, her eyes tear streaked.

"Please," she said, backing up slowly.

"Tell me where it is!" He advanced on her. Though his face was now masked, she knew who was beneath it. She knew because the mask had been put on sometime during the chase through the woods.

"I don't have it!"

"You do! Tell me where it is!"

"I'm telling you the truth-" there was a shuffle and a scream before a sickening thud was heard.

***

Police sirens covered the long driveway; a small child huddled against an old woman as they watched a black bodybag go by them.

***

A masculine head shook sadly as he carried a box of evidence into the storage space marked 'L. Woods- '92' on the outside of it. The officer placed this box with the thousands of others before he turned around and walked quickly out of there, as the storage area always gave him the creeps. He felt bad that yet another case had gone cold.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

***Seventeen Years Later***

Detective Lilly Rush walked alongside a very tall African American man she'd handcuffed, and she stuffed him into the policecar. The lights and sirens blared loudly in the peaceful neighborhood. She locked eyes with him as he was taken away, and she looked over to the side. There, she saw a small African American little boy walking away from the scene, dribbling a red dodgeball right before he faded away. She stared at this spot for another moment or two as the police walked around her and started to drive away as well. Lilly felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped. "Are you alright?" Scotty asked her. She turned to him and gave a meek smile, shaking herself out of what must have been yet another hallucination. She took in a deep breath of air, and Scotty draped his arm around her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get back to the station for a bit. You look like you could use some rest."

"I'm fine," Lilly insisted, finally fully out of it. She wasn't sure what 'it' really was, but she knew that for the last few years, ever since she had joined the Cold Case unit, she had seen these illusions. She used to think that they were her imagination patting her on the back for a job well done, a case finally closed, but lately, she wasn't so sure anymore. Even when she wasn't thinking about it, she would see them, the victims right before they'd disappear. It used to happen every other case or so, but now it was like she saw it all the time. She wondered if maybe this was her sign to take a small vacation, but she coudln't ever bring herself to ask for that time off, not after the time she'd taken after she was shot. She tried to pretend not to see these illusions, but it only made it worse somehow. These thoughts plagued her on the way back to the station, and she was glad that Scotty had insisted on driving.

Lilly looked at the clock as soon as she they got inside the building and made their way towards the offices. She decided to take a breather by sitting at her desk before driving home for the night, but regretted that desision immediately, as the phone on her desk started to ring. She brought the phone to her ear, but all she heard was a static so loud that she had to take it away from her ear an inch or two. "Detective Lilly Rush," she greeted. No one answered. "Hello?" she called into the phone, wondering if someone needed to buy a new cellphone plan. A couple of seconds later, she heard a voice respond to her.

"Hello?" It was so faint, Lilly almost didn't hear what was being said, and she thought that it might have been a radio wave that had been picked up.

"Hello?" she called again.

"Hello?" Lilly heard it this time, a little louder, but not by much. "Detecti-" The phone call was cut off, and the static was gone, replaced by the dull dialtone. Lilly looked at the phone for a display, but there wasn't one. She frowned and looked at her partner, who had been there.

"I don't know what that was," she said, puzzled.

"Neither do I. I have never heard for that to happen. Maybe they will call back when they have better reception."

"Yeah," Lilly replied absently. She took one last look at the phone and then she picked up her coat. "Well, whether or not they decide to call back, they will have to put it on the answering machine."

"What if it is an emergency?" Scotty asked, and Lilly stopped for a second. She sat back in her desk.

"Alright..." she said as she thought about this. If someone needed her, she wasn't sure why a cold case would be a matter of life and death, but she had experianced some interesting things while on the job. "I will give them a half an hour to call back. Then I will go home."

"No, I'll wait. You go." Scotty said. She smiled at him gratefully and put her coat back on.

"Thank you so much. This has been too long of a day," Lilly said. She waved to him before leaving the building, guiding herself through what little traffic there was, and getting home before the clock switched over to midnight. She put some catfood in Olivia and Terri (AKA Cyclops and Tripod)'s dishes before going to her bedroom, leaving the door open an inch. In a few minutes, they will join her and wrestle her for the best parts of the bed.

Too tired to even consider undressing, she slept in her clothes and fell asleep almost immediately.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lilly drove into work the next day feeling a whole lot better. The headache that she had the night before had slowly gone away as she lay in bed that morning, scratching Olivia's ears, her one eye closing slowly in ecstasy. Though she felt better, Lilly knew somehow that this day was going to get bad. It was a feeling she had, which was part of the reason she stayed in bed for almost an hour before she dragged herself into the shower. Walking past Scotty, Lilly asked, "They call back?" He shook his head.

"I'm glad you finally made it in," Kat said to her. She tilted her head to the side and back, motioning towards Lilly's desk. There, the blonde detective saw a young woman of about 27 years of age, and she looked slightly nervous as she wrung her hands in her lap. Lilly walked to her, noticing that the woman had pale skin and freckles on her arms and hands, though they weren't on her face due to her concealer. There was a small blue book in her lap that the woman was playing with. The woman looked up at her as Lilly sat down.

"Detective Lilly Rush?" she asked hopefully. There was the slightest tint of a Scottish accent as she spoke, as if she lived with someone and their strong accent rubbed off on her.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"My name is Cassie- Cassie Woods? I was told to come see you after I called here."

"Were you the one who called my desk last night?" Lilly asked as she turned her computer on.

"What? No, I called yesterday morning, but I couldn't come in until today because I had gotten a page from the hospital. They told me to come see you when I got a chance."

"Oh," was all Lilly could say to this. She looked- frowned more like- at her phone, as if that would reveal the caller from the night before. "So, what do you need to see me about?"

"I am moving to Grandview, New York in a month, and I was clearing out the boxes from the old house. You see, when I was eight years old, my mom died. A fall from the attic window, but the police suspected robbery and murder when they saw one of the windows broken and many of the rooms inside ransacked. They never had a suspect, and it took only twelve days for my mother's case to go cold."

At this, Lilly frowned. "That quickly?" Cassie nodded.

"Yes, I remember my grandmother was so mad about that," the redhead confirmed. "Anyway, I wanted to show you this. It came from the attic of the house she died in. We never lived in that house again, and we barely went by except for upkeep purposes and to make sure people weren't using it to hide in. This was placed between one of the chests my great grandparents brought over with them from Scotland a long time ago, and the wall." As she spoke, Cassie picked up the small book and hesitantly handed it to Lilly, her hands shaking slightly. "It was her diary. There weren't many entries in it, but when I looked at it, I saw that the last entry was written the day she died, but it... It doesn't make any sense to me. I cannot read the hand writing, except for the numbers she wrote at the bottom of the page. Here, 0028132892, and then a dash, and then 22772632."

"Bank account?"

"I don't think so. Too many numbers, I think." Cassie said. Lilly nodded at this. She thought so as well. "I think, since there's a key there, that it might be a safety deposit box that might need a code to even access it," she added in after a moment.

"Key?"

At this, Cassie reached over slightly to take the diary back, and she opened the page wider to take the key from its place. "Here. It was tucked into the page of her last entry."

Lilly looked over the key. It didn't look like a key for any locker or safety deposit box she had ever seen. In fact, this key looked more like one of the janitorial keys used for paper towel and toilet paper dispencers. The key was silver and resembled the female symbol, only there were three holes at the top. She looked closely at it and saw no numbers written on it, but there was a scratch, a mark of being used. It was very unordinary, and very hard to trace. "This looks like a janitor's key for the toilet paper dispensers," Lilly said, more to herself than the young woman before her. She saw the sad look in this otherwise sunny-seeming woman, and she knew what it was like to lose a mother. She couldn't, however fathom how it would have been to lose her mother at a young age, and to murder. Even so, at least Lily still had her sister, as estranged as they are, but this woman seemed to not have that. Cassie had spoken of a grandmother. "Is your grandmother still alive?"

"No, she passed in her sleep. I am spreading her ashes in Grandview when I move. My mother grew up there, and I thought I could feel closer to her in the small town she loved so much." Lilly nodded at this, and she motioned for Cassie to follow her down the hall.

"Would you like some coffee?" the blonde detective offered, but she got a head shake in return.

"I had some on the way over."

Lilly made haste in making her own cup, and then grabbed her notepad and pen. She made the 'follow me' motions again, and the two found an empty interrogation room. She let Cassie sit in the chair with the back against the door, the one the detectives usually sat in. She knew that the other chair, the one the suspects sat in, were firmer and uncomfortable. They were designed to induce a sense of added discomfort and angled in just the right way to make the brain tell you that something was terribly wrong. Lilly herself didn't like sitting in them, but there was no way she would let an innocent woman who needed her help sit in a chair that made you feel that way when she was already going to have to open up and talk about her dead mother. "Alright Cassie, I know you were pretty young, but do you remember much about the days leading up to her murder?" Lilly asked. The redhead held on tightly to the diary as she thought about things.

"Like I said, I was only eight, but I remember... I remember she was jumpy."

"When?"

"It was the night- no, two nights before she died."

"Do you know what made her jumpy?" Lilly asked gently as she made a note of this. Cassie shook her head.

"My mother was a no nonsense, do as you're told but do the right thing, type of woman. She was always in control of the situation, both at work and at home. Our entire life was scheduled, and there was a confidence about her that helped everyone around her trust and respect her word. So when she was a little nervous and jumpy a couple of nights before she died, I knew something was wrong, but I figured it was a grown up thing and took advantage of the fact that I got to watch TV longer that night before bed. The next night I was sent to my grandmother's house for the night, and I knew something was wrong because it wasn't on the schedual at all, and it was in the middle of a school week. I love my Nana more than anything, but it felt wrong that time. My grandmother seemed concerned for my mother, and she was someone who couldn't really hide her emotions. It was a normal evening from there. My nana and I worked on my homework, then we had some sort of Scottish stew for dinner, and after a movie, I went to bed. The next day, I went to school as normal, except it was Nana who dropped me off instead of my mother. Since my grandmother also worked, I had to go to day care after school, which was a block away. My mother didn't come at 5:45 when she usually came. Everyone was worried. They tried to call my grandmother, but she hadn't gotten home from work yet, and we didn't know her work number. At seven, Didi, the one who owned the daycare, had let the others go home and then she took me home." Cassie stopped speaking here, and Lilly looked at the woman. She gave her a moment to compose herself.

"Was that when you saw her body?"

"I didn't, then, no. I was in the back seat with Didi's son Kit, and when we got on the gravel driveway, I remember Didi started to freak out. She wouldn't let me get out of the car. She kept screaming for me to stay inside, to watch Kit, even though Kit was a year older than me. She wasn't even gone a minute when she hurried back to the car and we drove away. I screamed for her to let me come home to my mother, and I knew my mother was hurt when we made it to a gas station and she called someone on the pay phones out front. It was a 911 call, and then another call to my grandmother. Only when my grandmother and the police all got there did we go back to my house and I saw her like that. They found our car a couple of miles away, and the detectives thought that she had abandoned it before going home. I just don't think that is true, though. She was so rational and calculated in all she did. To abandon the car and where she did it suggests something else. And the diary..."

"Yes, the diary. May I?" Lilly asked, and waited as Cassie stared at the small book before handing it slowly to the blonde detective. Lilly opened the book to the last page written in, and saw what Cassie had meant by it being practically indecipherable. At first glance, she could make out a couple of words, but the numbers at the bottom had been the most clear, as if she had to take their time to make sure what she wrote was absolutely correct. It was as if above all else, this was the important part. What Lilly couldn't understand was that if the key belonged somewhere as common as a bathroom, what was with the numbers? Was it a code of some kind? Suddenly, The Da Vinci Code came to mind, but she knew it was silly, as Cassie's mother had passed away a good ten or eleven years before the book had been released. Lilly flipped the page back one and saw the date was for December 23rd, 1990, which spoke about how newly seven year old Cassie had figured out her Christmas/Birthday gift, and she was at a loss for what to say to not show that Cassie had been right. The entry was signed with her name, Leslie Woods, and it all was very neat and legable. The differences in the entries were amazing and obvious. Leslie Woods was a rational woman, but something came at her that made her lose that confident rationality.

"I remember that while I waited for my grandmother, she said to me many times that she loved me. 'Cassie you're my baby', 'Cassie, Iove you', You know I love you, right?'... I didn't understand it at the time, but had I known she was saying goodbye..."

"Don't do that to yourself. You couldn't have known."

"I sensed something, but I..."

"You were young. Eight, you said," Lilly responded. There was a silence that stretched between them as a tear fell down Cassie's face. Lilly looked for a tissue, and she had to leave the room for a moment to get her some. When she got back, the diary was back in Cassie's hands, and she was looking closely at the last entry.

"Thank you," the young woman said when she was handed the tissue, then she said, "I wish I could read what this says. She was so panic'd. No one should ever have to die the way she did. Scared, alone."

Lilly said nothing to this for a moment, and then she asked, "Was your mother dating anyone? Was there anyone new to you or her that she might have mentioned or you might have met?"

"No, I don't remember meeting anyone. She never dated that I knew of, and my mother never brought anyone from work to the house. We always went out to eat or she would have Nana come over while she spoke about work with them."

"Where did your mother work? What did she do?"

"Mom worked for Grant Software. It was a small company then in the heart of Philidelphia, but it's pretty big now. She worked in advertising and marketing. "

"And how long did your mother work there?"

"She did some basic jobs for the company during highschool and college to pay for school, and I think she met my father there?" Cassie said in a question as if unsure. "She dropped out of college to have me, but they always had a job for her there. Since before I was born, but I can't tell you the exact number of years. She moved up in the company as it grew a little, and I am sure she would have been a CEO or something by now." The young redhead's eyes went to the ceiling as her eyes welled up again. She seemed frustrated right afterwards, as if angry with herself for letting Lilly see this of her. There was another long silence, and Lilly knew that she wouldn't get much more from Cassie right then.

"I'm sorry for your loss, and I will help you in any way I can. I have some forms to fill out and we can get started. In the next few days I will have you come down to see if some of the things in her files are familiar to you and help you refresh your memory. In the mean time, keep a peice of papar with you in case you remember anything else, or you can give me a call." Lilly wrote out her number on a peice of scrap notebook paper and tore it, handing it to the young woman. Cassie took it appretiatively.

"Thank you Detective Rush."

About a half an hour later, Lilly Rush walked slowly into the evidence chamber where the cold case files were stored. In her hand was the diary and key, which she had made plans to take to Gregory, who was a master with handwriting. Maybe all of the numbers would make sense once they could deceipher the rest of it. Slowly, Kat opened the door for her and they both walked inside. Neither her or Kat really liked going there alone, but neither one would admit it to anyone, which was why they waited with the guard, or went with eachother. It was almost as if something called out to them, calling out for them to solve their case, to set them free somehow. The two almost huddled side by side by the time they reached the file of L. Woods, '92. Lilly double checked the case number she had gotten, but she knew that was the right file, as it was the only L. Woods there. There were three F. Woods, one in 2001 and two in 1977. She put one box infront of her while Kat took the second box, hauling it on her shoulder. The long day she predicted for herself was going to be alot longer than she could imagine. As if to sense this, Kat gave her a sympathetic look as they reached Lilly's desk. "Good luck, girl."

"Thanks." Lilly deadpanned as she sat down. She heard Kat's soft giggle right before she forced her mind to get to work.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

***A few hours later in Bend, Oregon***

Doctor Miranda Grey sat on the floor with an opened box of letters, adding the newest one from Chloe Sava to the many others. The shoebox was now almost full, and could probably house a couple more letters and envelopes before Miranda would be forced to find a new spot for them. Seeing this made her feel good. She loved getting these handwritten letters from her friend, long stories about the things she saw and the people she had met. Miranda always wished she could have been there with her. She missed Chloe terribly, a feeling she never thought she would have after her marriage with Doug. That pang in her chest from wanting to be near, but not getting to be. She knew that her bond with Chloe ran deeper than what she would like to admit. She could even psycho-analyze herself and say that she was latching herself to Chloe because she was the only one who knew and understood what happened to her in the most devistating time of her life.

Before she closed the box, she let Chloe's last part of her letter run through her head. 'Don't be afraid of what you can see. For you, seeing is believing. It is time to believe.'

She was referring to this not so new sight of hers, the ability to see spirits that she had tried so desperatedly to ignore and close herself away from for so long. In Miranda's latest letter to her friend, she told Chloe (who had always known about her gift) about the reoccuring spirit who arrived in her new apartment. It was a man who sat at her table and shuffled a deck of transparent cards. She couldn't sleep with him there at first, so she had to wait for him to leave at about midnight. The house would go back to the normal warm temperature, and then she could find some sleep. Miranda Grey wasn't really a woman of sleep anymore. She wasn't a lot of things. All that she thought she was had been shattered and distorted, much like that water on the mirror. Ironically, only when she was splashed with the water did she see her life for what it really was once the glass seemed clear again. In that one moment of haziness she had more clearity than any other time of her life.

Miranda forced her mind to stay away from four years ago, but it was hard. The litteral and mental scars will always be there, the echo of 'not alone' will follow her for the rest of her life with every spirit, residual or not, she saw. Chloe seemed to think that Miranda was supposed to do a great service to these ghosts, to help them cross over from the earthly plane to a greater plane, like Heaven or its equivalent. As her friend said this one night over the phone in her usual speech patterns heavy with metaphors, Miranda wondered if she was right. What if she could help them when they came to her? She was still scared because of what Rachel had done to her in order to get and keep her attention. Even now, Miranda wondered why the girl's spirit came after her and attacked her so viciously. Perhaps it was just as easy as the fact that she was dead and she was pissed about what happened to her. Miranda wanted to leave that all behind, but everytime she had to wrap up her arm and cover her face before leaving the house because people recognized her, it got harder to. Each spirit she saw because she sometimes couldn't tell the difference made her think of that night, and her first. None of them were as violent as Rachel, but the knowledge that a spirit could get to be that way made her very uneasy. Miranda was reminded of The Sixth Sense, and she remembered Bruce Willis telling that kid to speak to them and ask them what they want, but Miranda's voice quivered each time she tried.

Miranda knew, however, that Mr. Solitare, as she called him in her head, was residual, and he didn't even know she was there, let alone have a reason to want to hurt her, and once, she was even able to fall asleep to the rhythm of his shuffling with a large comforter around her. It just seemed odd that he has no warning of what time he gets to her apartment, just that he is always gone at midnight, give or take a minute. There's another residual spirit in her apartment complex. Another man walked on the floor above her one day every month at four in the afternoon until six, and if she tapped on the ceiling, it would stop. The only problem with that was that she lived on the top floor, and there was only the roof above her.

To be honest, Miranda already knew what kind of good she could do with this new sight of hers, she just chose not to do it. What had a ghost ever done to make her want to? Well, she was given the operatunity to save the other girl at Willow Creek, and she was able to figure out a way to save Chloe from the devil invading both her body and her mind, but there was one time, though, when she had no choice. She saw two children on the news who were on amber alert, and she found the man suspected to have kidnapped them from Pheonix Arizona. She was led there by the childrens' birth father. He was so nice about coming to her, and he didn't scare her when he approached, so she felt better about assisting him. Still, it got a little too much to handle when she got a call on her cellphone from Allison Dubois, Pheonix's medium working in the DA's office, almost immedately after she saw the address from her car, and the man with the children go inside to confirm it was right. She told Allison that her dream of her were correct, that she saw ghosts but chose not to, and in no time, Bend police were there. A couple of days later, Allison called her again to tell her the outcome of the trials, and they remained in touch through emails. Though Miranda shared with Allison all the things she could do, she still felt a little out of reach in the friendship department with her. Part of the reason was because of the fact that Allison was so in tune with her gifts, which reached past what Miranda can do, and that was something the doctor didn't want to face yet. Allison was also a happily married working mother, someone that Miranda herself had wanted to be once. It was as if looking at and talking to Allison was like talking to a shattered and poorly glued mesh of who she once was, who she wanted to be, and who she now is.

Miranda felt the cold temperature of the house before she heard the first shuffle of Mr. Solitare's presense. She looked over to him to say a greeting that he would never hear, but she paused. He seemed smokey, unclear. Mr. Solitare was never this way. It was almost as if there was something else around him that was taking away from him. What was it that TAPS always said? Electromagnetic fields. Ghosts needed that to manefest themselves, which was why it got so cold in the room and electronics went wonky. Maybe something else was there, taking away from Mr. Solitare so that they could talk to Miranda. The doctor wasn't having that. "Leave him alone," Miranda said, and suddenly, Mr. Solitaire became his normal vision for her. She wondered if she really was out of it, as she was coming to find some amount of comfort in his presense after being in this apartment for three and a half months. Before, she was living a couple of miles away, but had moved when there was a fire in the area and many people parished in it. Miranda just couldn't handle it, which was a shame because it was a perfect home for her. Now, she was getting used to Mr. Solitaire, and she wasn't sure what or who was trying to come through. Just as she thought that to herself, the smoke seemed to come back, but Mr. Solitaire was still as solid to her as he always was, which told Miranda that whoever was trying to come through was using another source for their electromagnetic fields. Slowly, the smoke formed into a woman shape, who stared at Mr. Solitaire, and then to Miranda as she tried to come in clearer.

"Hello? My name is Miranda Grey. You are in my h-home. Can you hear me?" she asked. The spirit made a head movement, which was just enough to indicate that she had been heard. "Do you need my help?" Another head nod, and the woman's shape got a little clearer, even though her face looked bewildered.

The woman opened her mouth and she began to speak, her eyes wide when nothing came out but a fleshy sound in her throat. It was so eerie. Finally she got out, "St- Stop. Stop."

"Stop? Stop what?"

"Phuh-" The woman looked as if she was gasping, and suddenly she started to fade.

"Wait, I can help you. Stop what? Who?"

"Phile-"

"Philly? Philedelphia?" Miranda asked, and the woman looked hopeful. "What needs to be stopped in Philedelphia?" Miranda asked, feeling eager now that she was beginning to get somewhere with this spirit. The temperature got even colder, and Miranda started to breathe fog. She could tell that the woman was fighting to stay there, but then she faded completely, her throaty noises being heard faintly before it all was calm and still. She realized that Mr. Solitaire's cards had gone silent, and when she looked up, she was surprised to see Mr. Solitaire looking at her. This startled her before she realized he wasn't looking at her, but through her. To him, he must have been asked a question by some bartender. The room went back to the temperature it was always at when Mr. Solitaire was around. She'd stopped breathing fog, but she was still shivering. The shuffles started up again, and Miranda wrapped herself in the comforter and watched Mr. Solitaire as her eyes got heavy-lidded. The next day Miranda will look into what's going on in Philedelphia and see what it is that she is supposed to stop, if she even could. She was a medium when she admitted to it, not Superman. She hoped that once she looked into it, the spirit might come back and give her another clue. It was all she could do for now.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

***The next day, Grandview, New York***

Melinda stood beside Jim Clancy's tombstone and sighed. "I could be surrounded by a million people and never ease the lonliness I feel," she said, placing the flowers down gently. She had been away for so long, and there have even been guilty moments where she felt as if she could move on after Jim crossed over. She had an offer of a date a week prior, but he had taken it back later when someone had told him the situation about Jim. The hassles sometimes, of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone and everything, somehow. What brought the most guilt was the fact that she was ready. Ready to date. Ready to not be alone. She had felt bad even when she was accepting that other date, but she knew that Jim would let her move on. It was Melinda who wasn't letting herself move on sometimes. That slight fear, even though she knew she was ready to date again was always there. Would Jim approve? She remembered when Jim's mother had started to date again. It had taken a while, but she had been able to do it, and she was so happy now. Melinda wanted that, too. She set one of the flowers from the ground to the top of the headstone. She then walked back to her truck so she could get back to the antique shop. She crossed the street after parking the car and waved to the man who just started up his restaurant next door. The antique shop always got customers who were there to try the new restaurant and then have a moment to shop around. Then Melinda went inside to see that Delia was already there, helping two customers at once. Delia had been a godsend since she came to Grandview and worked with her. She not only helped her feel a little more alive after the passing of Andrea, her best friend and buisness partner, but the single mother had been there during her grieving over Jim as well. She wanted so badly to see Delia's dead husband so that she could at least pass on the messege that he was alright, but he just hadn't come around, and she felt guilty everytime something supernatural happened and she had to look at Delia and Ned's hopeful looks.

Melinda looked at the two women being helped by her friend and she walked around the counter to help. Only then did Delia seem to know she was even back. "That was quick," she said.

"I only wanted to say hello," Melinda replied.

"I am glad that you're back," the large set woman said to her after one of the customers walked out of the store with her perchase and as the other customer looked around some more.

"You seem to be doing fine by yourself," Melinda said, not attempting to mask her slight confusion. It was an odd thing to say in the store owner's opinion.

"Oh, nothing like that, its just, something happened with the computer when I tried to look up the internet catalogues. I think... I think it's... because of your special friends," she said slowly. Delia was still unsure about Melinda's gifts at times, and she was afraid to refer to them as ghosts in fear that it would be calling them to Melinda and causing more problems for them and the shop.

"You think so?" Melinda asked.

"Go look. Whatever's wrong with it, it started just after you left."

"Really?" Melinda asked this time, looking at the computer in question.

"Yeah. I wouldn't think much of it otherwise if you hadn't just gotten it back from Heddie at the repair shop." Melinda nodded at this.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "let me go check it out." She went to the computer to see that though it was still running, the monitor was turned off. She pressed the button to turn it back on, wiggling the mouse in case the screen was in sleep mode. What she saw surprised her. The screen had black and white specks flying around, like a TV monitor would have if the channels didn't come in. Melinda sat down in front of it, and pressed a few buttons, like ESC, Enter, and a few letters on the keyboard, but nothing happened. Then she took the mouse and moved it around some more, and the computer seemed to come to life. The screen went back to what looked to be Delia's favorite online catalogue that they ordered furnature from, but then the window went black before a picture of a frail looking blonde woman with short, almost shoulder-legnth hair and icy blue eyes appeared. Just as she wondered who this woman could be, the eyes in the picture suddenly turned black, and words formed as if typed in at the bottom of the screen.

STOP HER STOP HER STOP HER STOP HER STOP HER...

Over and over the messege went. "Who is she? Stop her from what?" Melinda asked as the words completely filled the picture. The air got cold around her and she stuck her hands into her pockets momentarily. Then she stood up. "Who are you?" she called softly. There was no reply except for the picture flashing, the words still being typed, even though there was no other space on the picture for them to go. "I get the hint, but how can I help you if I don't know who you are?" The picture continued to flash. Melinda had had enough now. "If you won't tell me more than this, then leave me alone. I can't help you." The screen suddenly went still, and the online catalogue went back to normal, the picture of the blonde woman somewhere else on the desktop in its original state. The air got even colder, and Melinda started to feel mist come from her mouth and nose. The shop owner tried not to feel fear. She had never felt it get this cold before.

Melinda saw movement in the corner of her eye and when she whipped her head to look, she was face to face with a redhead woman no older than her late twenties grasping almost painfully to her desk as if to steady herself from something pulling her away. "Her name is Lilly Rush. Detective Lilly Rush. Please. You've got to stop her."

"Who are you?"

"L-Leslie Woods," the woman said. She winced in pain, and then she disappeared screaming, "No! I'm not-"

Melinda stared at the space the woman had occupied, and she felt the temperature get warmer. "Brr, it is freezing. What happened?" Delia asked.

"Honestly, I am not sure. I think someone was trying to speak to me, but she couldn't stay long. I'm going to have to do some research, but I guess it can wait until tonight."

"What kind of reasearch, if you don't mind me asking?" Delia looked at her expectantly, and Melinda sighed.

"All I can manage were two names, and the fact that the spirit wants me to stop someone. From what, I don't know." Melinda shrugged as she went to the cash register and started messing with the money inside to put in the safe until they had their bank run. "After work, I'm going to the Grandview Historical Sosciety to see if there is or was a family here related to her, and then I have to look up the person she wants me to stop. See if that gives me any further clues. Too much about that encounter is left to be desired, and for some reason it bothers me." Delia tipped her head to the side, her brunette hair moving along her face as she showed her confusion.

"You have dealt with dozens of spirits just in the time I have known you. What is different about this one?"

"I don't know. It is a feeling I get. She didn't get a chance to tell me everything, but I feel as if she wouldn't have, anyway." Melinda shook her head. I don't know." she said again.

***

That evening, Melinda stopped by Franny Stevenson's house like she said that she would when she called the friendly old woman at two that afternoon. She walked up the stairs of the historical shop and knocked on the apartment door when she came across it. "Hi Dear," Franny greeted. She was a good friend to Melinda's grandmother, and she had spent many afternoons there as a teenager gathering information about people of the past. She remembered hearing the story of her grandmother once crossing over a man named Woods who wanted to speak to his wife one last time. She doubted they were related, as Woods was such a common name, but the possibility could still be there, and if it was, her search could be a lot easier. Franny would remember, as her mind was still very sharp, even if her body was failing slightly now. If Leslie hadn't said that the woman she wanted stopped was a detective, her search would have been harder on that end as well.

"Hey! I promise not to keep you long, Franny. I just wanted to ask you if you rememebered when my nana came by, and you helped her speak with the Woods family because the father had something to say? I don't think I was born yet when it happened," Melinda added in to help the elderly woman remember a clearer date of when the event happened.

"Yes, I remember," Franny said. "Your grandmother came looking for information on Henry Woods. They were immegrants, if I remember correctly. He wanted to tell his family that he was dead, and that the papers for citzenship were unfinished, that they still needed a couple of things signed before they were. He had a wife and a daughter that was young."

"What were their names, do you remember?"

"Of course I do," Franny said.

"Oh, don't sound so offended. I can't even remember," Melinda said fondly.

"Your memory for names and dates has never been quite as good as mine, Dear," Franny replied, her tone matching Melinda's. There was a smile shared. "Henry's wife's name was Anita, and their daughter was named... Leslie."

Melinda brightened a little at this and said, "How old was Leslie when it happened?"

"She was about 12 herself. Such a beautiful little girl, and Anita had a strong accent, either Irish or Scottish," Franny told her. Melinda thought about this, trying to do the math in her head. If Melinda wasn't born yet when this happened, and Leslie wasn't older than thirty herself when she died, then it meant that Leslie passed away anywhere from fifteen to twenty years ago. This made Melinda wonder what Leslie's spirit had been doing the last few years, and what had happened to her.

"Thank you Franny."

"I know that look. Is there anything I can do to help you with your ghost search?" Franny asked. Melinda gave a smile.

"Truthfully, I am not sure. She didn't give me a whole lot to work with. I have a couple of names- Oh! Can you tell me if there is a family by the name of Rush here?" Melinda asked.

"There is a small family who just moved here three years ago. A couple who are expecting. They own the new reality offices across the square."

"Is the woman named Lilly?"

"No, Gina," Franny corrected. Melinda nodded.

"So the woman Leslie is after-"

"Leslie's dead?" Franny asked, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. She is the one who came to me, and she looked like a young woman of maybe twenty-nine or thirty. She's been dead for a while now, Franny."

"Such a shame," Franny murmured, and Melinda nodded again. "So the woman she is looking for is named Rush? Lilly?"

"Yes, but apperently, this woman isn't here in Grandview. Leslie called her Detective. I can only assume that Leslie left Grandview, and this woman is now wherever it was that Leslie had moved to."

"Yes, I remember that. She moved away when she was still pretty young. I never knew Anita myself, but those who did knew that she wasn't happy about the move. She later moved away when her granddaughter was born."

"Leslie has a daughter," Melinda said with some relief. Maybe Leslie had just been watching over her daughter for all these years. Then another thought had occured to her. What if something was happening to Leslie's daughter now, and Detecitve Lilly Rush was after her?

"Yes," Franny confirmed. "Don't know much about her, though."

"Do you know where Anita and Leslie moved away to?"

Franny shook her head.

"What about the name of Anita's grandaughter?"

"No dear, I can't say I do," Franny said regretfully.

"That is okay. You really have been a great help. I think if I can find Detective Lilly Rush, I could possibly find her. I have a feeling that the two are somehow connected to eachother now, if only by Leslie's death. But I wonder, if she's not in Grandview, then why did she come here to me? Surely there are other mediums closer to her she could go to."

"Maybe Leslie remembered your grandmother, and she sensed her in you."

"That is better than any theory I have," Melinda said. She smiled, and then stood to leave. "I should let you complete your evening in peace. Thank you very much for your help."

"You are most cerainly welcome. If you ever see your grandmother, tell her I said she owes me a game of bridge." Melinda smiled at that, hugged the woman, and then left for the house she and Jim fixed up together. She looked around before she went to her computer.

"Alright, Detective Lilly Rush. Just who are you?"


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

***Back in Philly***

Detective Lilly Rush stared at the many items she had laid about on the table: the diary, the key, a set of clothing with the shoes, Leslie's purse, a candle, a bullet from the hole in the wall of Leslie Woods' attic, and glass peices and bits of gravel from the driveway where Leslie Woods was found. She searched through some of the contents of the purse and found the usual items: makeup, a mostly full pack of gum from a company that had long since changed the wrapper design, keys, more keys, a compact mirror, and a small stack of buisness cards, which had been bound with a rubber band. Judging from the small coin purse she found, there had been no money taken, as Lilly had extracted over $75 from it. From the reports she had read earlier that morning, it seemed as if the purse had been left in her car, and had remained untouched, even though the rest of it was pretty ransacked. "Whatever they were after," Lilly murmured to herself, "money wasn't it." This surprised Lilly, as the suspect had time after the murder to go through the house and ransack the place, but nothing was taken according to the knowledge of Anita, the grandmother, or so it said in the report. Lilly had seen enough murder cases where it was personal, and the murder suspect didn't care for anything other than the kill. Even so, she had also seen so many cases where people robbed and murdered for so much less than $75.

Looking over the pictures of the crimescenes, Lilly tried to find a clue to what it was that the murderer had been looking for, and whether or not he found it. In every picture of the house, Lilly could make out the clothes thrown about, drawers that had remained opened carelessly. "Maybe he didn't think he had the time, and this, whatever it was, was more important. But what is so important they'd want to kill someone over it?"

"Talking to yourself, Rush?" Scotty asked as he came in. He placed a cup of coffee on her desk, and she looked up at him. She then relocated the cup away from her and the evidence box, so that she wouldn't spill any coffee on it.

"Just trying to figure this out. Everything points to a robbery and murder, everything except the robbery. Nothing was stolen." Lilly put a hand through her hair, her fingers touching the hair tie that kept it (barely) in place. Her eyes then landed on something that made her pause in her movements. One of the pictures of Leslie's body stared up at her, and she picked it up. Her body was mangled, and dirt, gravel and blood surround most of her, but that wasn't what had caught Lilly's attention. What Lilly was focused on was the fact that the outermost jacket that Leslie was wearing on the night she died was open. Lilly picked up the picture and looked closer. She scooted backwards in her chair so that she could lean over it. She squinted. The jacket was open, mostly on Leslie's left side, and Lilly noticed that one of the buttons, the one right above where it was open, was missing. "I think I got something," Lilly said.

"What?"

Instead of replying, Lilly hurried to the other evidence box where Leslie's clothes (which had never been released back to Anita) were. She found the bag that held the jacket and opened it. The blood that had long dried formed stains and clumps that would never be let out, but Lilly delicately moved the jacket so that it was open the way it was in the picture. She found that there was an inside pocket on that same side. "He searched her person," Lilly said out loud for Scotty's benefit. She felt along the outside of the pocket and felt something potrude against it. After putting on a latex glove, Lilly reached into the pocket and found a peice of very thin black plastic. "I think... the suspect found it," Lilly said.

"What is that?"

"I don't know. I am sending this to be analyzed, and then I am paying a visit to Leslie's former employers at Grant Software. Care to come along?" Lilly asked as she stood to go find a baggie to place the plastic in.

"Was I expected elsewhere?" Scotty asked playfully.

"Nope. Come on," the blonde replied. Scotty picked up Lilly's cup of coffee and held on to it as he followed after her.

As Scotty used his cellphone's Mobilemap to find out if Grant Software was still in the same building, Lilly Rush got a call on hers. She was in the middle of midtown traffic and did her best to slowly put her hand in her pocket for her cellphone. She looked around quickly before putting the phone to her ear, knowing that the only one who knew that she was breaking the law wouldn't turn her in. Still, she never liked being on the phone while driving, but if someone called her cellphone, it had to be important, since the only ones who had the number were those at the office and her sister. There was a small static, and Lilly ventured a look at the display. She frowned when she saw that it wasn't an area code within even the state. She didn't recognise the number at all, and wasn't sure she wanted to even answer it. Still, she heard, "Hello?" The voice seemed pretty young, kind, feminine, and Lilly decided that maybe she should take this call.

"Detective Lilly Rush," she greeted.

"Hello, my name is Melinda Gordon. I'm calling from Grandview. I heard that you were working the case of Leslie Woods who died about fifteen or so years ago," the woman, Melinda said. Some of it came out sounding almost in a question, and Lilly wondered if the woman was nervous making the call.

"Are you family?" Lilly asked, unsure if Cassie had a cousin back in Grandview who she may have told about the diary. If so, Lilly wanted to have a word with Melinda to see what she might have been able to tell her about Leslie.

"I'm a friend of the family," the woman responded. There was something in the way that she said this that made Lilly wonder, but she sounded so comfindent in what she said next that the detective had to consider it. "I believe I can help you with the case."

"Do you have any extra information about the night Leslie died?" Lilly asked. At this, Scotty looked at her with a question on his face, and Lilly's head jerked in his direction. She gave him the slightest of shrugs, hopefully telling him that she had as much of a clue as to what this was about as he did, and then she looked back at the road in front of her. Lilly tried to think back on the reports. She didn't remember seeing the name Melinda Gordon anywhere, and this woman sounded as if she would have been too young to remember much of Leslie if ever they'd met. She wondered how, if she was a friend of the family as she stated, she might have anything else to do with the case.

"No," Melinda said, "but I think I might help you find a place to start."

Lilly had no idea what to make of this. What the woman had just said made no sense. "I'm not sure what to say to that," Lilly admitted. "If you don't have any information to help on this case, then I don't see where you would know anything about where to start." Even as she said this, Lilly wasn't sure she even made anymore sense than Melinda Gordon did. "There's got to be something you're not saying."

There was a pause on the other line before Melinda replied, "No, it is nothing like that. Is this the only number I can reach you?"

Lilly was surprised by the sudden change of direction the conversation took. "Make an appointment with me at the Philedephia Cold Case Department. I want to talk to you, but I am driving and now isn't a good time. I would appretiate it if you didn't call this number again, as it is my personal line."

"I'm sorry," Melinda said. "When I made a search for your name, this was the number that came up." This again made no sense. Lilly's cellphone number came up private on caller ID's, and she was certain she wasn't listed anywhere as a precaution against stalkers. "I will do as you asked and call you again on your office number, Detective Rush. Thank you for your time." With that, the woman on the phone hung up. Lilly slowly put the cellphone back in her pocket and concentrated on driving as she thought about the last few minutes. Something was definately not right, and there was something that woman wasn't saying. That, Lilly was sure of.

Scotty was still staring at her expectantly, as Lilly didn't say anything for a long moment. She was starting to wonder if there was some telephone/cellphone consiracy going on, as this was the second time in two days that she got strange phone calls. Though she wondered if it had been Melinda Gordon on the line the night before, part of her was sure that couldn't be right. For one thing, Melinda said herself that the cellphone number was the one number that came up in her internet search of her, and Lilly could be almost certain that Cassie hadn't gone to the family friend with the information about the diary BEFORE coming to the Cold Case unit for help. However, Cassie did say that she had called a bit of time before she was able to come in, but in the gap of time between Cassie's phone call into the unit and the first phone call to her line, Lilly hadn't yet said that she would take on the case. And another thing that bothered Lilly: Who was this Melinda Gordon and how did she get her number? What wasn't she telling her?


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

*In the air*

Melinda winced as the baby behind her took in a deep breath before starting up again in his wailing. Though she felt bad for the kid, she felt the pounding of her head even more. The headache she'd gotten upon waking up that morning from Leslie Woods' sudden arrival failed to go away. At the airport, she'd brought some overpriced asprin, which she took with a bottle of water, but it seemed to do no good. It didn't help that Leslie seemed determined to stay by her side as she traveled to Philidelphia, even though she couldn't seem to stay for more than a minute at a time. Before Melinda had boarded the plane, she'd used her laptop to do more research on Lily Rush, and when she couldn't find much on her, she'd said, "How am I supposed to get ahold of her?" Almost immediately, her laptop went black, and a moment later, a phone number popped up. In many ways, it was like that show she liked a long time ago called Ghost Writer. She still had a few minutes yet before the plane took off, and though she knew she wasn't really supposed to, she gave the good detective a call. The conversation Melinda had with Lily Rush was interesting, but she learned a few things. One, Lily Rush seemed to be the strongest when she uses electronics to communicate, as if she was afraid to stay in her physical form. Two, detective Rush worked in the Cold Case division.

Melinda stared out the window as she thought about this. Lily Rush was working Leslie Woods' case, which told Melinda that Leslie was murdered. This made sense, considering how Leslie acted. The spirit was often looking over her shoulder even though she knew that she and Melinda were the only ones there most times she showed up. In some ways, it was as if Leslie forgot that she was dead, as well as most of her life. As many times as they had gone over things, Leslie didn't seem to remember much except that she had to help her daughter, and that Lily Rush mustn't work on this case. What Melinda knew of helping ghosts cross over was that a lot of spirits of murdered people needed for their murders to be solved in order for them to cross over, and Lily was already on it. She knew it was the only way for Leslie to cross over, not by stopping Lily Rush. Though their first conversation was a bit tense, she knew that she had to figure out what Leslie was so scared of, and help Lily solve this case, whether the good detective wanted her help or not.

*Three hours Later in Philidelphia*

Melinda hoisted her carryon over her shoulder and waited dor her suitcases at the baggage claim. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait too long for them. Melinda found herself soon after rolling them behind her. She smiled at the young man who held the door for her, thanking him once she was outside and then took her cellphone out to check the time. It was well after one in the afternoon. Just seeing that made her feel tired..

"Alright Leslie. I'm in Philly. Now what?" she asked with a sigh. Immediately, her cellphone vibrated against her thigh. She looked to find that there was a text messege there from an unknown number. Opening her phone, she saw that it was an address. "You want me to go there now?" Another text, this time simply 'y'. Melinda was glad that her phone had an unlimited plan. Though she didn't know why Nate was so adiment about her getting that, she was glad for it now. "Alright," Melinda said with a shrug. She then raised her hand, and only seconds later, a taxi cab stopped in front of her and the driver was helping her put her suitcases in the back seat.


End file.
